Frowning Clowns

Is it alright?
To not know where you are?
In or out of sight?
Dim or very bright?

Only walls to justify
Why we yearn for stars
And angry flesh-colored scars

Is it alright for you?
To hear your mind pout
When it hasn't a clue
What it babbles about?

They say what you are
Is who you are
And who you are is not null
If everyone were perfect and similar
Life  would be quiet dull

Yet why do my eyes
Itch and hurt
From watching
Flocks and swarms
Of copies and twins
All identical in unfriendliness

I had let my guard down
And now I stand defenseless

I had allowed you to see my frown
And now they are endless
Possibilities, I meant

A coward, a weakling, a clown
Roots chipped and bent


Go ahead, and assume
I would no longer fret
But know that
however I am named
I am not yet but soon
To be the marionette
Threads 'round your fingers
Lips solid red
And heart-shaped
Eyes black tragedian
Slowly swaying
To your accordion...

Author's Note

I am really upset and confused. I don't know how to make it go away.

*Image: Clown
*By: Nidoleaire
*Link: http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&q=clown#/dvzskz

Reviews

[Mauricio Montoya]

Sometimes it hard to deal with our emotion especially when the answer are scatter all around in different direction they say clowns laugh and smile to keep what hurts inside, but I feel we must released it with a positive out look.. I think you’ve done a great job in putting this write together.

[?]

wondefully expressed ... we all have a mask or two...new and old...
Can related a bit with this...well penned

[taylorjaymes]

This is very beautiful and expressive. It is such a great concept: wearing masks in life, and finding them lifting off with experiences, or finding a new one to put on. Well done.

[I'm Just me:)]

wow interesting i love it

[Coyote Poetry]

Great use of clowns and your thoughts. Hard to put the real face on. Most people don't like that. I like the description in this poem.
"I had allowed you to see my frown
And now they are endless
Possibilities, I meant"
A strong ending to a outstanding poem.
Coyote

[Norma M Sutton]

I never liked clowns. They scared me as a child, but then so did Santa Claus, and to this day I don't like to see either of them. The poem is . . . convoluted.